


Fresh Start

by mytsundereelf



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 21:51:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mytsundereelf/pseuds/mytsundereelf
Summary: Harrison Perel seemed to have it all. An affordable dream college, his best friend Nikki for a roommate, decent grades, and he was magic for Christ sake. Yes, from the outside he looked like a man who had it all. Until one day something inside him that he kept bottled up finally snapped causing him to drop out of college and flee from his parents to Seattle for a fresh start at life with a strange D&D obsessed writer Nerris and her freaky, hairless goblin of a cat "Creepy".





	Fresh Start

From my earliest memories, I remember my mother's hands. A small hold, a gentle touch, times of great void and loneliness, and yes, the occasional flashes of pain. My mother was a fragile, anxious woman holding tight to a small child. Becoming a mother at the tender age of 17 caused her nothing but pain. Because of this, mother never was too kind.

There were times she would try. A glimmer of something that not quite resembled maternal love was somewhere in her heart. Though I never saw true proof that she loved me I believe she thinks she did. She loved me in the only way she could. That is to say, she saw me as an extension of herself and loved how I seemed to keep with the mould she left behind for me. Nothing made my mother more proud than the day I said I wanted to be like her. Looking back, I think she still holds on to the idea of that doll-like child.

I think of these things as I stare down my mother's cell number for the last time. A flash hits me. It was of the day she hit me. Harsh voices, my full dead name, a hairbrush, and the cold unfeeling word "Monster". I flench and my face contorts in disgust.

"That woman is no mother. She is the monster." I remind myself. These words looping around my mind all day and like a warn stuffed bunny with white and blue spots I haven't seen since I was little, I pull them close and cling to them. The word monster is a comfort to me. It reminds me that I am a sane person who is fighting the big bad wolf of my story.

I delete the contact. A rush of anxiety swells within me. It pools from the deepest parts of my soul. This vile and black of heart beast which my monster had gifted me with. It whispered to me little horrors of death and depression but I force it aside. I have been fighting this beast long enough to know how to calm its rage. As they say, music always soothes the savage beast. With my headphones in, I press play on the song. Ghost by Mystery Skulls. Something cheerful to take my mind off of the monster.

A sigh leaves my body. I look up at my surroundings. The airport is cold despite the hoards of people packed together in terminals. People of all sorts passing the time. I look up at my gate again.

"Seriously... another fucking delay?" I feel sick. My feet are heavy and I can't seem to calm down just yet. I keep imagining the monster showing up at the airport. Rage in her eyes as she stomps down to my terminal to drag me off and... I can't breathe. I realize with a start that a man is staring at me and there are tears running down my cheeks. My head jerks away and I quickly wipe my eyes and gather my things.

The bathroom was a quick walk from my terminal. It was just past the Starbucks and the weird little jewellery kiosk in the middle of the walkway. I pass an old lady trying to sell me weird earrings and give her a polite smile and feel so stupid.

I finally reach my safe haven for the time being. The bathroom stalls are cramped and small with my luggage but its still better than having an emotional breakdown in public. I sit down on my bag facing the toilet as my hand's fumble with my phone. The tears are coming back again and I can feel my heart rate quicken signalling the start of yet another anxiety attack. Breathing exercises do nothing, as usual, because nothing can quell the fear of the monster finding out what I've done.

I'm not exactly sure how long I was in there having a meltdown but I do know that by the time I realized I needed help, my legs were aching and my throat was dry and scratchy.

In a desperate attempt to calm my nerves I click on Nikki's contact and press call. My feet shuffle and my hands shake as the ringing continues on. I feel so pathetic. I look at my phone and realize is 11 pm. She won't answer. Nikki is a great best friend but even she needs to sleep. Once the phone went to her inbox I let my head fall back against the cold stall door.

"What the hell am I doing. My moms gonna kill me." My voice is hoarse and I can't help but want to go back to my dorm and crawl back into my bed. That's not an option for me anymore. I keep reminding myself I dropped out for my own good. A little time off to earn money and find a safe place to live where I don't have to worry about my parents is what I've always wanted.

So why do I feel so guilty? Instead of following down the rabbit hole this question would lead, I pick up my bag. It's nearing 12 now which means my flight should be boarding soon. As I shrug off the anxiety coiled around my heart I catch myself praying the plane hasn't been delayed again.


End file.
